


Lost in thought in the Café Musain

by Get_below_my_line_of_vision



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 01:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16170941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision
Summary: Enjolras is in denial of his feelings for Grantaire, and Combeferre understands everything that's happening and tries ever so much to silently ship them.





	Lost in thought in the Café Musain

Enjolras paced back and forth, his hand allowing his chin to rest on it. He was thinking deeply after all.  
"Enjolras," Combeferre tried to divert the blond man's attention but to no avail, "I'll be going." He took a few steps until, "Good luck in whatever you're thinking."  
A gentle hum was all Enjolras could respond since he wanted to remain in his head as long as could.

So, what was this man thinking about? To be truthful, his thoughts were occupied by a certain someone. Their name was certainly not Patria, yet he always swapped the real name with it. If his friends were to find out his thoughts were cursed by a certain man, he feared they would look at him differently. It was extremely difficult to create the Les Amis de L'ABC, he was not to risk them falling apart. That was how Enjolras viewed his situation.

As Enjolras' strides became larger, his thoughts grew with it.  
Grantaire... When he first met him, he was so focused on Grantaire's alcoholic breath, his attention did not remove itself from the man's lips. That was the explanation Enjolras fed himself whenever the image of the lips sprung to his mind, and would not leave until many hours later, sometimes, on an irritating day, remained for an entire, long day.  
The second most visualised part of Grantaire to Enjolras was his curls. His never-ending curls which used to sometimes shadow his eyes, creating a barrier between the two whenever they argued. (It should be mentioned that Combeferre noticed the reason why Grantaire lengthened his hair was because he felt so inferior compared to the 'godly Enjolras', whom he often compared to Apollo, that he felt the need to create some kind of a barricade to hide behind. Enjolras, trying to hide his disappointment, would have a twitch occur in his hand, sometimes even lifting his arm, before being confused as the reason why, then dropping it again. Combeferre often amused himself with the idea that Enjolras did not know he wanted to place the loose strands of hair behind his ear to admire Grantaire's captivating eyes. Then the laughter faded as Combeferre soon acquainted the question: what if Enjolras really didn't know? What if Enjolras did not know his attracting to Grantaire?)

Enjolras stopped in is tracks, found a chair, then sat. His foot tapped the ground uncontrollably, as if terrified to enter the thoughts he had constructed himself.  
Countless memories had emerged, all which had Grantaire shine brightly above everyone else.  
Enjolras focused... he couldn't like Grantaire... (He was sure it wasn't love, for he didn't want to imagine such situation)  
He once again reminded himself of the nature of the drunkard. He was cynical, argumentative, fiery... attractive.  
Quickly Enjolras snapped out of the thought and muttered to himself that he had misheard his own thoughts.  
He rubbed his face with force, as if to erase his thoughts that loomed in his head. 

The sore in his ankle called for Enjolras' attention. Staring at his own foot, he mentally commanded it the only way for the pain to dissolve was to stop erratically tapping his foot. Of course, despite his command, his foot continued to beat against the floorboards. Sighing heavily, he stood up gain once more, and continued to think as he walked in circles in the Café Musain. 

Before he realized, it was very late, probably explaining why Combeferre had left. Enjolras was simply pacing around at midnight practically like madman. Perhaps he was a madman... Never in his life had someone so deeply occupied in his thoughts.  
Yet Enjolras felt so comfortable in the memories of Grantaire. Somehow Grantaire created warmth in his heart and cheeks. Enjolras fumbled around, confused and angry. 

Knocks on the door surprised him. Peaking from the gap, Enjolras; heart raced until the light of the room chased the shadows away to form an outline of a face, then to the man's features. It was Combeferre. "Hey," He gave a goofy smile, "I came back because I thought you were going to be here."  
Enjolras cleared his throat, "I was just going to return home."  
"I thought this was your home, considering how much time you spend here," Combeferre cackled at his own joke, until realising to stop due to Enjolras' serious stare. "I'm.. joking." He muttered a clarification.  
Enjolras shifted towards the door, ready to leave.  
"Get your coat," Combeferre awkwardly reminded, in which Enjolras did a swift and elegant U-turn to fetch his belongings.

"So, what, what were you thinking about?" Combeferre coughed out (this was one of the main reason he turned back to check on Enjolras.  
"What," Enjolras stumbled on air, "No one."  
Combefeere gave out an exaggerated gasp, "It was a someone."  
"No I didn't say that," Enjolras blinked multiple times.  
"Uh-huh, you did," his friend burst into laughter, "Who was it?" (He knew who it was, but wanted Enjolras to feel better."

After collecting everything, Enjolras walked past with fake confidence, "I'm going home. Alone. Goodnight."  
"You never know, you stayed here for so long, if you step outside, it might be day," Combeferre cursed beneath his breath that he did not tease his friend about Grantaire.

Enjolras hurriedly went down the stairs, frightened if the next day. Tomorrow, he was to meet his friends in the Café Musain, which, unfortunately for him (but very fortunate for Combeferre), included Grantaire.  
(Also, through Combeferre's observations in the streets, it was evident that Enjolras only held his coat in the freezing outside, so lost in his train of thoughts he had not even worn his coat.)

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I was exhausted yet my hands wanted to write, thus explain why both the plot and writing sucks. So, apologies.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading.


End file.
